


Infiltration

by rosecat13



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecat13/pseuds/rosecat13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is tired of Rookie threatening him and Cecil, and decides to confront him. Unfortunately that means entering the Police Station, and he'll have to be armed for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infiltration

**Author's Note:**

> Based upon @NVSSP_Rookie and @NightValeSciFi

It’s dark, and Carlos pushes up the bridge of his glasses, near silent as he treads in the area behind the SSP’s Police Station. He’d staked out the area a couple of times before; he was no fool. He was a scientist at the end of the day; meticulous, calculating, and ever-questioning. And he put those skills to good use. It seemed deranged, how carefully he had monitored the place over the past few days, weeks, months; but it also seemed deeply essential. Know the enemy. In Night Vale, there was much to fear, but the SSP posed a threat that Carlos had never come across before.

There’s a cool breeze at night, ruffling softly through his hair, and there’s a few soft twangs as the exacto-knife cuts through the screen of one of the windows. Carlos slips the instrument back into his pocket and hoists himself into the frame. He crouches in the space, holding his breath, waiting for light or shadow to flicker and move, but all is silent. He steps down, the weight of the gun on his hip ever-present. He’d make a wonderful silhouette, the cut mesh of the window framing his figure as he stands, triumphant, in his enemy’s territory.

Carlos presses his ear against the office’s door, and at hearing nothing, cracks it open. Light pours in, fluorescent and garish, and Carlos allows himself a minute to adjust his eyes before exiting into the hallway. He hears the hum and drip of a coffeepot, and knows that there must be someone there. Well. A certain someone, that he was hoping to catch on-duty. And knowing the man was married to the job, that he barely slept, that he was oh-so devoted… the chances of him running into Rookie were very, very high.

He keeps his feet light, the gun coming out of its holster. By God, this town was making the man desperate, and the fact that he had been reduced to carrying around an gun (apparently they didn’t kill anyone anyways, so what was the point?) was an eerie statement in itself.

He rounds the corner, the cool white wall pressing into his back. And there, at the coffeepot, was who he was looking for. Number 103. Rookie. And with a few well-placed steps Carlos is behind the man, the barrel of the gun nestled against his temple.

The other only chuckles, “I’m no stranger to guns, you know. Quite common in my line of work.”

“I don’t care about your line of work, cabrón,” the scientist hisses, and Rookie tries to turn to confirm that it was just who he was thinking of, but Carlos keeps the man looking at the coffeepot with a jab of the gun.

“I told you that you showed potential,” the man has the gall to smile under his mask, and Carlos grits his teeth. “Too.. what was it you said? Heartless? Ruthless? But here you are…” the policeman lets the implications sink in.

“I came here to give you a message.”

“You do that plenty already, citizen.”

“Shut up,” Carlos hisses. “Leave me alone. Leave Cecil alone. Just… leave us alone.”

“Again, you’re so possessive. You act like you own the man, really, is that what you want? To be a tyrant? Seems rather hypocritical, taking into account what you think of m-auch!” Rookie holds the side of his head, trying to recover from the small, forceful hit the scientist had inflicted on him with the butt of his gun.

Carlos turns him around, holding him by the collar of his shirt. He jams the gun beneath the man’s chin, in the hollow of his neck, and pulls the hammer back with a click. “I know a way I can make you disappear from our lives, permanently. And I’ll do it.” Rookie, masked, shows no expression. Carlos rips the tinted glasses off the man’s face and leans closer, the smell of cold metal thick in his nose. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me I wouldn’t.”

Rookie says nothing. Carlos pulls the trigger, and the masked man flinches. But there is no bullet. “I’m not like you,” the scientist hisses, pulling the gun away. “But if you push and warp me enough, Rookie? I can be.” His voice drips venom, and the scientist turns, walking out of the police station, and towards home.


End file.
